by West, Sam
“You call this living? Good Lord, I call this dying a slow, painful death. And that music. I have such a headache.”
“You know what, Jason? Beethoven gives me a fucking headache, because it’s fucking crap. And don’t even get me started on that opera shit you listen to, it sounds like fucking cats dying.”
Charlotte slipped her hand out of his and stopped dead in her tracks, glaring at him. In that moment, she couldn’t think of a single reason why she was with him. At twenty-four, he was just two years older than her, but right then it felt like at least twenty. Everything about him and his stuffy attitude grated on her, from his already receding hairline, to his glasses, to the corduroy jackets with leather elbow patches that he wore that she used to think were so adorably cute. Now she just thought they made him look like a pretentious wanker.
“I wish you wouldn’t swear like that. It makes you sound trashy.”
Charlotte bristled. “Trashy? You think I’m trashy now? Am I not good enough for you? Why are you being so rude? You say I’m close-minded, but what about you? There’s more to life than books, and Universities and boring old equations.”
Behind his little round spectacles, his gaze softened. “Charlotte…”
“No,” she said, snatching her hand away when he reached for her. “I think you’ve said enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
She glared at him, but felt herself thawing a little. Still, there was no way she was going to apologise. He was the one in the wrong, not her. He could go fuck himself if he expected her to say sorry. But apparently, he didn’t.
“Can we start again? You’re right, I’m just really stressed with the work load at University. I’ll buy you some candyfloss.”
“Will you go on the dodgems with me?”
“Let’s not push it. I said I was sorry, I didn’t say I’d have a personality transplant.”
But he said it with a smile; his first proper smile since they had arrived here ten minutes ago.
Despite herself, she smiled back. Maybe she was being a little harsh. Jason was a good bloke, a real catch. He was intelligent and kind, even if he was a little smug sometimes, and more importantly, one day he was going to be very rich. And maybe, if she could persuade him to start going down the gym, he could do something about his puny body, too.
She allowed him to take her hand in his and once more they resumed their walk.
“Oh look,” Charlotte gasped in delight, grinding to a halt. “A fortune teller. How exciting! Come on, let’s get our fortune told.”
She gazed in awe at the small tent that was sandwiched between a tombola stand and a candyfloss stand.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Do we really have to go and see some stupid, theatrical old hag in a shawl, crouching over a crystal ball and wearing a prosthetic nose?”
“A prosthetic nose? Really? I thought you said you were going to stop moaning and try to live a little. Come on, it will be fun.”
Jason opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and shut it again.
“Please? Come on, our song is playing too, it’s a sign.”
The Pet Shop Boys floated towards them – the only pop music that Jason seemed to tolerate. It wasn’t exactly her favourite pop group, but at least it wasn’t bloody Mozart or some other classical crap. The lyrics of ‘their song’ – a song she secretly disliked – drifted over her. It was the song that had been playing on the car radio when Jason had asked her to move in with him.
…’cause when you least expect it, waiting round the corner for you. Love comes quickly, whatever you do, you can’t stop falling…
Invisible, icy fingers tickled the back of her neck, and for a moment she stood stock still, irrationally gripped by the idea that someone, or something was watching her. Her heart hammered and the lyrics of the song seemed to take on a whole new, sinister meaning. The crazy notion that something bad was waiting round the corner for her, caused her to sway slightly on the spot. The music, and all the noise of the funfair seemed to distort around her, like she was heavily drugged. The joyful screams of the people on rides suddenly sounded like screams of terror, and the jostling crowd and clanking machinery of the rides caused her vision to narrow, like she was falling down a well.
“Hey, are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale.”
Jason’s voice instantly snapped her back, and suddenly everything was normal again. Her heart hammered wildly and she placed a hand over her chest.
“I’m fine, I think I had a panic attack, or something.”
She’d had them before, but not for many years and never that bad.
The flap of the tent swished to one side and her gaze fell upon the newly revealed entrance of the tent.
For a second, everything around her seemed to fall silent. Framed in the tent’s entrance was quite possibly the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life. He was tall with thick, glossy black hair that flopped over his forehead. His complexion was the smoothest olive, his eyes a glittering black.
She marvelled at the perfect, manly angles of his face. He had the bone-structure of a young Brad Pitt. No, scrap that, she thought, this guy was a zillion times hotter than Brad ever was. His utter perfection made him appear ageless, yet she doubted he was over thirty.
Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and her lower stomach flipped in arousal. She squirmed uncomfortably, conscious of the sudden, wet heat that flooded between her legs. His mouth somehow managed to be both soft and inviting yet hard and cruel at the same time. His beautiful lips looked as if they were carved out of stone, and the corner of one side lifted up in a cruel smirk that made her breath catch in her throat.
Her gaze travelled lower, drinking in the sight of his body encased in the simple white t-shirt and tight, faded Levis.
Oh my, that body… Fuck me, those muscles…
Her pulse quickened and she felt her face flush.
“Can I read your fortune?” he asked.
His accent was thick and one she couldn’t place. Romanian, perhaps? He sounded like a campy Count Dracula from some ancient, black and white movie. His glittering, black eyes bore into her, making her face flame further. Not once did he look at Jason.
“No, it’s alright,” Jason squeaked, then cleared his throat.
She jumped guiltily at the sound of his voice. “You promised,” she said, not quite able to bring herself to meet his eyes.
“I promise I won’t bite,” the sexy stranger said with that knicker-soaking smirk.
He stepped to one side, holding up the flap of the tent to let them pass.
Charlotte entwined her fingers with Jason’s, gently tugging on his hand.
He sighed heavily. “Okay, okay, we’ll do it.”
As she brushed past The Hunk, a jolt of electricity shot through her body where his bulging bicep grazed her shoulder. Her legs were jelly beneath her when she entered the tent with Jason close behind her. On the inside it was a simple affair; just one, small, white table with three chairs surrounding it.
And there was no sign of a crystal ball.
“Please sit,” the man said, pulling out two chairs and gesturing for them to sit down.
They did, and the sexy stranger sat opposite them.
“I do not need props to read a person’s fortune,” the man said as if he could read her mind. “I am the real deal. I want one of you to lay their hand palm up on the table. Who shall go first?”
Jason sighed and Charlotte glared at him. “I guess I’ll go first, then,” she said, shooting Jason a warning glance.
You promised you would be nice.
She smiled at the man, peeping coquettishly up at him through her eyelashes.
“It is not so easy to perform on sceptics,” the man said, his eyes glittering and narrowing into slits. “But I sense a deep, mystical soul within you, my child.”
His words made her shiver, like they had touched her physically.
When he touched her, his big hands were warm,
dry and slightly calloused. With her heart in her throat she stared down at his fingers cupping hers, marvelling at how big and masculine his hands were; how small and dainty her hands looked in his.
How a man and a woman should look together, she thought through the haze of lust. Jason’s hands were so small and pathetic in comparison.
He began to trace slow, languid patterns with his fingertips on her upturned palms. Her whole body flooded with endorphins and her head swam. The tickle of his fingers made her entire world spin. Barely touching her skin, he followed the faint lines on her palm.
“Interesting,” he said, staring hard at her palm, that all-knowing, sexy smirk firmly in place. “So. You are twenty-two years old, and you are an aspiring model.”
She gaped stupidly at him. “How did you know that?”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers and felt herself falling into the unfathomable, dark pools of his eyes. “I read people, Charlotte, that’s what I do.”
“I didn’t tell you my name,” she whispered.
“That’s right. You didn’t.”
“Yes, well, you had to be eavesdropping on us then, didn’t you?” Jason said. “And if not you, then someone else.”
“Please, Jason, can we just do this? At least try to make an effort, try and get into the spirit of things.”
“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “For you.”
“Your life is at a pivotal moment,” the fortune teller continued as if Jason were invisible. “This very night will determine your future. You are a beautiful woman, Charlotte, you will go far in modelling if you choose the right path tonight.”
“The right path? How’d you mean?”
“I mean that tonight you will be given a choice, and whatever you decide will make or break you. Tonight, you will realise that you are with the wrong man. A woman as breath-taking as you will never go the distance with a man like Jason. He is not good enough for you. Yes, he will one day have a brilliant career and make lots of money, but he could never satisfy you. A tall, dark, handsome stranger will come along and sweep you off your feet; he will show you who you really are.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Jason said, pushing back his chair and jumping to his feet. “This tall, handsome stranger is you, I suppose?” He looked down at Charlotte, pushing his glasses up his long nose. “This guy is the worst kind of predator. He’s a spy, a liar and a charlatan and I have no intention of staying here to have my intelligence insulted for a second longer. It is time to go.”
Charlotte was almost impressed – she had never known Jason to be quite so vocal and stern. She knew she should get up and walk out of that tent, but her legs refused to move. The compulsion to stay a while longer outweighed the need to please Jason.
Who the hell does he think he is, anyway, she thought with a flash of anger. I want to stay.
“Charlotte. Let’s go.”
“Let the lady decide for herself,” the man said in that strange accent of his as he looked at Jason as if he were shit on his shoe. “I expect no less from the mind of a mathematician. You cannot even begin to comprehend the wonders of the world beyond the narrow field of your vision.” The sexy man narrowed his eyes at him. “And I sense a darkness within you, my friend. An ugliness. Charlotte, this man is no good for you, you must leave him while you still have the chance. He will destroy you.”
Charlotte almost laughed at that; Jason was such a wimp, he got upset swatting a fly, for fuck’s sake.
Jason blanked him. “Charlotte, this is your last chance. If you don’t come with me right now, you can find your own way home.”
She gaped at him. Surely he couldn’t be serious?
“Then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she knew she’d fucked up. It was only sheer bloody pride that dictated she should stay.
Pride? Who are you kidding? It’s lust...
“Have it your way,” Jason said, turning to leave.
Numb with shock, she just sat there and watched as he angrily swept the tent flap to one side and disappeared out into the brightly-lit night. Her paralysis broke when she suddenly remembered that she only had loose change in her handbag and hadn’t bothered to bring her wallet with all her cards in.
“Jason, wait,” she cried, jumping up from her seat and stumbling out of the tent.
But he was nowhere to be seen, instantly swallowed up by the milling crowd. She looked around herself in confusion, disorientated and inexplicably frightened. Where the hell had they parked? Not being able to drive herself, she never really paid attention to such trivial details…
Tears prickled her eyes and she gasped in shock when a hand grasped her shoulder. She spun round and found herself staring up into those black eyes; eyes which seemed to reflect the blackest pits of hell right back at her.
She shuddered at the strange thought. Seems like I’m full of them tonight.
“He is gone, you will not find him here again tonight. Men like him, they are not worth your time. They will destroy what they do not understand. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She didn’t, and just stared at him open-mouthed. “One day, your hidden strength will save you. You will find it within yourself to fight him. Come, you are in shock, I will look after you.”
“But I have to find him,” she said in a small voice. “He can’t be far away –“
He silenced her with his forefinger pressed to her lips. “Hush, the moment has passed. Fate has spoken.”
Fate has spoken? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
But the thought was fleeting, because all her senses were on high-alert with his finger pressed to her lips like that. The other hand gently massaging her shoulder didn’t help much, either – that small action alone sent ripples of desire coursing through her body, muddying her thoughts.
I feel so strange… Is this a dream?
She gazed up into his dark eyes, then at his cruel mouth. All she wanted to do was to kiss him. What’s happening to me?
“You are so beautiful. Come.”
His hands dropped away, and he turned his back.
End of sample.